You Have Heart
by N'kala
Summary: A 5 and 1; when Loki told Clint that he had heart, he was more right than anyone believed.
1. Chapter 1: Bruce

**Title:** You Have Heart  
 **Author:** N'kala  
 **Disclaimer:** Not mine  
 **Summary:** A 5+1; when Loki told Clint that he had heart, he was closer to the truth than anyone realized.  
 **Author's Notes:** So yes, I have been working on this off and on since the first movie was released. With the release of the amazing sequel, I hope to finish this sometime soon.

A few things to note: I do not ship, gen or het, there are no character deaths, and this is noncompliant with canon past the first Avengers movie. This particular train of thought stemmed from the merchandise that appeared with the big 4 on it and ignored Black Widow and Hawkeye. Also? Coulson lives, but the Avengers know about it.

 **You Have Heart**

Chapter One: Bruce

"With all due respect, Director, that's complete bullshit!"

Clint froze just outside of Phil Coulson's medical room, the unusually angered tone of his handler causing him to withdraw. Whatever Coulson and Fury were talking about had clearly upset the still-healing agent, and Clint was determined to find the cause. It had been a miracle that Coulson had survived Loki's attack; Clint wasn't about to let anyone, even Fury, undo all of the doctors' hard work.

"I don't like it either, Coulson, but it's not up to me," Fury replied. "The Initiative is on shaky enough ground as it is with the Council; they don't trust any of them. Adding Barton to the mix-."

"He deserves that spot!" Coulson insisted. "He's worked so hard for it! They can't just dismiss that!"

"He led the eattack on the Helicarrier," Fury replied gently. The words caused Clint to reflexively duck his head and hunch his shoulders in shame. "He was compromised and nearly cost us everything."

" _Loki_ led the attack," Coulson snapped. "Clint was just as much a victim as the rest of us."

"I know," Fury said. "How else do you figure I've been able to keep the Council from having him arrested or thrown into some gulag?"

"They'll touch him over my dead body," Coulson growled.

"They very nearly did," Fury countered. "I'm sorry, Coulson. I'll keep pushing, but right now he's not an official part of the Avengers yet."

Coulson released a frustrated huff of air. "I'm not letting this go," he warned Fury.

"I expected as much," Fury assured him. "Just do me a favor? Don't put yourself back in ICU, huh? I need my one good eye back at work and running herd over the Avengers."

Clint ducked around a nearby corner just in time; Fury strode from Coulson's room, trench coat swirling around his legs. As soon as the director vanished from sight, the archer once more approached his handler's door before hesitating. If he went in now, Coulson would know that he'd heard the exchange.

"I know you're out there, Clint," came Coulson's weary voice. "You might as well come in."

Clint obeyed, an apologetic grimace on his face. "I really wasn't trying to listen in this time, Phil."

Coulson smiled faintly. "I know." His sharp blue gaze narrowed on the brown paper bag and coffee cup that Clint carried. "Are those for me?"

Clint pasted a bright grin onto his face and approached Coulson's bedside. "I figured you'd be going stir crazy in here, now that you're feeling better." He handed Phil the coffee, who took it and eagerly downed half of the cup's contents.

"Easy, Boss," Clint said, reaching into the bag he still held and pulling out a cruller. "You're gonna want taste buds for this."

He set a second cruller on the tray before Coulson, then balled up the empty bag and tossed it into a nearby trash can without so much as a glance. Coulson let out a happy sigh, reaching for one of the pastries.

"You are a godsend," he said.

Clint couldn't contain the sudden flinch, and he lowered his head.

Coulson set his cruller down, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry. Poor choice of words."

Clint shrugged one shoulder, flashing his handler a humorless grin. "At least someone thinks so. Thanks . . . for, you know . . . defending me to Fury."

Coulson's frown deepened. "None of what happened was your fault, Clint." He narrowed his eyes shrewdly. :Has anyone been giving you trouble over this?"

"What, and risk the wrath of the legendary Agent Coulson?" Clint replied. "Please, sir. Your reputation as a bad ass g-man is fully intact."

Coulson's narrowed eyes glinted in suspicion. He recognized the deflections for what it was, but didn't pursue the topic any further. Taking another bit of his pastry, he changed the subject.

"How are the rest of the Avengers doing?" he asked.

Clint latched onto the new topic eagerly. "Your hero's out and about, touring New York on his motorcycle. Someone should probably tell America's number one icon to wear a helmet before some kids start doing the same. All we'd need is some parents suing Captain America for being a poor role model."

Coulson nodded, finishing his first cruller and taking a sip of his coffee. "I'll talk to Nick about that. Stark?"

"The usual," Clint replied. "He went to Malibu for a while, but he's back and skulking around R&D. When he's not making any techs cry, he's pestering Dr. Banner to go back to Stark Tower and work there."

"So Dr. Banner is still here?" Coulson asked. "I'm surprised Stark hasn't managed to convince him to go yet."

"It's not for lack of trying," Clint agreed. "I think he feels safer here. Well, safer in that we have a Hulk cage and it's a lot harder for the army to get to him in a super secret spy headquarters."

"There _is_ that," Coulson said, eating his second cruller. He fixed Clint with a piercing gaze. "What do _you_ think about the Avengers Initiative's chances? Honestly."

Clint shrugged. "You shouldn't ask me, Phil. I'm just a sniper."

Coulson snorted. "You're not 'just' anything, Clint. You see things differently than most people. I trust your judgment. Do you think the Initiative stands a chance at working?"

Clint held Coulson's gaze for several moments before lowering his eyes. He sighed.

"It might," he admitted. "I mean, it went really well when . . . well, when we thought . . ."

Coulson reached out and wrapped a hand around Clint's wrist. He knew how hard the news of his supposed death had hit the younger man, and he doubted he'd ever stop regretting allowing Clint to believe that he'd lost one of the few people he viewed as family.

Clint flashed him a grateful smile and continued. "When the smoke cleared, and things started going back to normal, people had time to really think about what happened. After Thor took Loki back to Asgard, Captain Rogers kind of took off. He's around here and there, but he's kind of retreated back into himself. Dr. Banner came here to work, but everyone's pretty much steering clear of him. They're scared of him, and he's scared of himself. Stark's okay; he'd be good to call on, though I think it's only a matter of time before his near death experience _really_ hits him and we get to witness another spectacular meltdown. Nat's doing all right, but you know how she is."

"And you?" Coulson asked.

Clint shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, does it? I mean, I'm not part of the team."

Coulson's fingers tightened around Clint's wrist. "Yet."

Clint smiled softly. "The Initiative could work, Phil. It really could, if we could all the players on the same page."

Coulson sighed heavily, releasing Clint and leaning back against his pillows.

"We need it to work," he confessed to Clint. "With the world changing, it's hard to keep up. The Avengers _have_ to work."

Clint cleaned up what little mess had been made and sat on the bed beside Coulson's hip. "Don't worry, Boss," he said. "We'll figure it out."

The archer waited until Coulson had dropped into a light doze before leaving the room.

Coulson's words and quiet desperation weighed heavily on Clint's heart. He knew how important the Avengers Initiative was, not just to S.H.I.E.L.D., but to the world. If Coulson needed it to work, then Clint would make sure that happened.

With a goal set firmly in mind, Clint headed towards the Research and Development labs where he knew Bruce Banner had taken shelter.

* * *

Clint heard them before he saw them.

"I'm not going in there alone with him!"

"Well, _I'm_ not doing it! The guy single-handedly destroyed half the ship!"

Clint turned the corner, frowning deeply at two agents passing a box back and forth as they argued just outside of Bruce's lab.

The first agent shoved the box back into his partner's arms. "I'm pulling rank. You go in."

The second man scowled. "We're _both_ level five, genius."

Clint moved closer to the pair. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

Both agents turned at the sound of Clint's voice, frowns creasing their faces. "What's it to you?" the first man demanded. "Shouldn't you be out recruiting for HYDRA?"

Clint fought to keep a bland expression on his face. "What's the matter, Adler? Too scared of your own shadow that you can't deliver a box to a scientist? I thought you were made of tougher stuff than that."

The second man, Adler, glared at Clint. "You'd better watch your mouth, traitor. You never know who might be listening in."

Clint nodded at the open door to Bruce's lab just beyond the two agents. "Maybe you should follow your own advice before Dr. Banner gets sick of hearing you two insult him."

Both agents looked at the door, panic crossing their faces briefly. Adler finally stepped forward and shoved the box forcefully into Clint.

"Then _you_ can deliver this to him, tough guy," he snapped. "Maybe he can finally do something good for a change and squash you like the bug you are."

Adler stormed away, his friend following behind him as he roughly shoulder-checked Clint. Clint gripped the box tightly, taking several calming breaths before walking into the lab.

A subtle hum greeted the archer as he hesitated just inside the door. Sharp eyes skimmed over the equipment and computers around the room, falling on the lab's sole occupant.

"Special delivery for Dr. Banner," Clint announced, hefting the box.

The scientist in question glanced up at Clint, his expression guarded. "Uh, thanks. You can just leave it on the table there."

Clint ignored the dismissive tone in Bruce's voice as he set the box down and wandered further into the lab. He could feel Bruce's eyes on him as he studied the machines and equipment in the room but ignored them.

"Er . . . is there something I can do for you, Agent Barton?" Bruce asked.

Clint moved away from a gently beeping computer and paused in front of a whiteboard half-covered in equations. His eyes traced over the numbers and symbols as he replied. "You can call me Clint for a start, Doc."

Behind him, Bruce blinked in surprise. "Okay. Is there something I can do for you, _Clint_?"

Clint shook his head, grabbing a blue marker from the whiteboard tray and uncapping it. "Nope. Just curious about what you've been up to in here." Raising the marker, he began scribbling on the remaining white space on the board.

Bruce darted forward in alarm. "Actually, that's a work in progress. Please don't . . ." His voice trailed off as he began to take in what Clint was writing.

Clint finished writing the final variable in an equation with a flourish, capped his marker, and returned it to the tray. "Black and blue markers? We've got to get you some less boring colors."

Bruce wasn't listening to him, his eyes scanning the numbers Clint had just written. He glanced from his work to Clint's, then to the archer himself. "How . . . I've been working on this for _days_!"

Clint winced, suddenly realizing that his intrusion into Bruce's workspace may not have been as welcome as he had originally thought. "Sorry. I didn't mean to set you back. I can fix it-."

He reached for an eraser and lifted it to the board, but Bruce's hand shot out and seized a handful of Clint's shirt.

"No, wait!" Bruce cried. "I didn't mean it like that!" He met Clint's eyes, his own shyness fading as curiosity replaced it. "How did you know how to write that equation?"

Clint frowned at the whiteboard. "Well, your numbers are about the Tesseract energy spikes and the portals it helped create, right? I remember seeing the same numbers in Selvig's lab in New Mexico. You're trying to find a correlation between the two for another application, like clean energy or something. Now, your numbers are focusing on the gamma waves coming from the device, but those are more residual outputs. I thought that looking at the electromagnetic pulses would be worth pursuing, but Loki happened."

Bruce could only blink at him, stunned. Clint waited patiently for the scientist to respond, quashing the unease he felt growing at Bruce's prolonged silence.

"It was just an idea," Clint finally said. "I'm sure you already considered it."

"I . . . hadn't, actually," Bruce finally said. He studied Clint more speculatively. "Where did you study?"

Clint gave a start. "I . . . nowhere, I just remembered Selvig's team and what they said, and I brushed up on what I didn't know to fill in the gaps."

Bruce finally released Clint to sink onto a nearby stool. "You . . . you read some books?"

Clint's unease was igniting his flight instinct. He was beginning to regret his half-formed plan to get to know Bruce better. "Yeah, I mean . . . I wanted to understand what I was guarding. No big deal."

Bruce closed his eyes briefly, then opened them. "Do me a favor, and don't tell Tony that. Okay?"

Clint frowned. "Why not?"

Bruce glanced at the board again, and back to Clint. "Because if Tony knew you could understand advanced quantum mechanics at an application level by just reading a couple of books on it, he will lock you in his tower and never let you go."

The bald statement was so ridiculous to Clint that the archer just laughed, some of his tension easing. "It's just math, Doc. I'm nowhere near your level. Or Stark's."

Bruce shook his head. "Just math, he says." He gave Clint another considering look. "Did you come here for this?"

"What? No!" Clint replied. "No, I just thought, maybe, you'd like to hang out sometime. You know, if you're free or something."

Bruce was giving him that considering stare again. Clint did his best not to fidget.

"I'm . . . not really one for hanging out," Bruce said slowly. "But if you want to drop by to help, or even to just hang around, you're more than welcome. Besides, having someone around to help distract Tony would be a plus."

Clint suddenly grinned mischievously. "No worries there, Doc. I've got plans to loosen him up."

Bruce quirked an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

Clint's grin widened. "Actually, if you've got some free time now, I'd love to get your opinion on some things."

Casting one more pointed look at the whiteboard, Bruce allowed himself a smirk. "As it turns out, I do happen to have some free time. What would you like to ask?"

* * *

end chapter 1

 **A/N:** BTW, the science/math jargon is just made up. I've read quite a few 'Clint as secret savant' stories, and I'm angling in that direction.


	2. Chapter 2: Steve

Chapter Two: Steve

 _4 Days Later_

"What are you doing?"

Clint jerked in surprise at the sudden question. He tried to stand, head smacking solidly into the underside of the lab table. Falling onto his rear with less grace than he preferred, he rubbed his aching head and turned to glower at the tall frame standing in the doorway to the lab.

Steve Rogers folded his arms, looking unimpressed at the archer's glare. "Isn't Stark scheduled to use this lab today?"

Clint grabbed the air horn that had clattered to the floor and returned to the task of fastening it to the underside of the lab chair in front of him. "I think I saw his name on the roster."

Steve took a step into the room. "What are you planning to do with that?"

Clint flashed Steve a quick grin. "'I' am not going to do anything with this. I'm just putting it out of the way."

Steve's eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head to one side. "Does this have anything to do with all those cupid pictures in the cafeteria with your face on them?"

Annoyance flickered across Clint's face, but vanished quickly.

"What, I can't put an air horn underneath a chair without my motives being called into question?" Clint replied snarkily. "If you insist on hanging around, the least you could do is help."

Steve dropped his arms and tucked his hands into his pockets. "I'm not sure I want to get in the middle of whatever this is."

Clint finished securing the air horn and jumped to his feet, sliding a roll of duct tape halfway up his forearm, leaving his hands free. He gave Steve a sly grin that immediately set the super soldier on edge.

"I'm not sure you get a choice," Clint told him. "You might as well resign yourself to being on my team."

Steve straightened, frowning. "You'd tell Stark I helped you?"

Clint shrugged and moved to the door, glancing left and right down the hallway. "I won't have to. When he's done having his heart attack, the first thing he's going to do is check the security footage."

Steve instantly glanced up at the security cameras in the corner of the room. "You didn't disable the cameras?"

Clint snorted in amusement. "He's going to know it was me anyway. Besides, the last time I disabled security cameras for a prank, Phil read me the riot act and made me spend two weeks moving through HQ without being seen by any of them." He shook his head, smiling fondly at the memory. "Getting chow at lunch time was a pain in the ass."

Steve glanced between Clint and the cameras. "But . . . the cameras will show him that I didn't do anything!"

Clint's answering smirk was less than reassuring. "Exactly. You didn't help, but you didn't exactly stop me, either."

Steve's eyes unerringly traveled to the air horn under the lab chair.

Clint glanced at his watch and snagged Steve's shirt sleeve. "Oh no you don't. Tony'll be here any minute, and I'm not having you undo all my hard work. Come on. Let's go pick out a good spot."

Steve allowed Clint to pull him out of the lab and to the right. The two could hear Tony's voice as he argued with someone, though neither man could pick out any specific words. Stopping in front of a door a couple rooms down from the lab, Clint opened it and shoved Steve inside before following him in and shutting the door until it was open just enough for the younger man to see the hallway.

Steve blinked in surprise, glancing around his new surroundings. His eyes slid over unfamiliar lab equipment and nonsensical computer screens before landing on a whiteboard filled with black, red, and blue math equations that went way over his head. Strangely enough, a sketch of a small purple cat waving at him from the corner of the whiteboard distracted him from noticing that he and Clint were not alone in the room.

Bruce was sitting at a table, peering into a microscope and taking notes, seemingly unphased at the sudden appearance of two Avengers in his lab.

"Good afternoon, Steve," he said, not lifting his head from the microscope.

Steve looked at Clint, who was still watching the hall, then turned back to Bruce. "Er . . . sorry for barging in on you like this, Dr. Banner."

Bruce smirked, finally glancing up at Steve. "I take it the prank war is going well?"

Steve floundered for a moment, wondering how Bruce was involved, when Clint answered for him.

"It's about to go nuclear," he said gleefully, flashing Bruce an excited grin. The expression made the archer look ridiculously young.

Bruce added more notes to his tablet. "Sound exciting. Is Coulson aware that you're contributing to the corruption of his boyhood hero?"

Clint scoffed. "Steve got _himself_ involved. Besides, he used to hang out with the _Howling Commandos_. Pretty sure whatever corruption wasn't done by them got finished by Howard Stark."

Rather than the familiar pang of loss that accompanied any mention of his former life, Steve felt a strange rush of gratitude at the idea that someone wasn't going to walk on eggshells around him. He might be completely lost at modern technology, but he was far from naïve.

"Well, if I'm already involved in this ridiculous war, then we need a battle plan," Steve stated. "I mean, an air horn under a chair? That's amateur stuff."

Clint and Bruce both turned to stare at Steve, identical looks of surprise on their faces.

Steve grinned. "What? I grew up with _Bucky_ as my best friend. There wasn't much the Commandos or Stark could teach me that I didn't already know."

A sudden, earsplitting blare filled the room, causing all three men to jump. Steve's eyes flew to Bruce to make sure he was all right as Clint closed the door, muffling Tony's outraged shriek of his name.

"So, uh . . . what exactly did you have in mind?" Clint asked, intrigued.

* * *

The remains of what had once been an air horn dropped onto the table in front of Steve's tray. Steve looked up from his lunch to find Tony Stark, wild-eyed and determined, staring at him.

"Can I help you?" Steve asked mildly.

Tony slid into a chair across from Steve and leaned forward. "Whatever Barton offered, I'll double it."

Steve frowned, feigning confusion. He leaned back in his chair, balling up his napkin and tossing it onto the remains of his meal. "Offered?"

Tony scowled. "Don't play coy with me, Spangles. I know you were there when he set this up. This is a one-time offer to join the winning side."

Steve stood and picked up his tray, carrying it to the conveyer. "Sorry, Stark. I don't know what you're talking about. Clint didn't offer me anything."

Tony narrowed his eyes, easily keeping pace with the taller man. "'Clint', huh? And how long have you two been so chummy?"

Steve deposited his tray, smiled his thanks at the worker who was collecting silverware, and headed for the exit to the cafeteria. "We're teammates, Tony. Makes sense that we talk and get on friendly terms."

Tony jogged around him and turned, walking backward to keep eye contact. "Friendly's good. I can do friendly. I'm a friendly guy. Ask anyone. So why don't you join _my_ team?"

Steve paused in front of the elevator and pushed the button to head up. "Why exactly are you so involved in whatever grudge match you and Clint have going on anyway?"

An annoyed scowl flickered across Tony's face. As the elevator doors slid open, the scientist followed Steve inside.

"He started it!" he exclaimed. "I was completely innocent!"

Steve raised a disbelieving eyebrow at Tony.

Tony nodded, waving the look away. "Yeah, okay, not even _I_ buy that. But he _did_ start it!"

"What did he do?" Steve asked, curious in spite of himself. He was only aware of the cupid pictures and the wasabi-coated blueberries, but he had a sneaking suspicion there was more to the story than that.

To Steve's surprise, Tony shifted from one foot to the other and avoided his eyes.

"He . . . let's just go with he started it, and he needs to learn not to mess with me and science." Tony frowned at the lit up number eighteen that Steve had pushed. "Where are you going, anyway? The eighteenth floor is R and D."

Steve's mouth curved slightly. "I'm going to R and D."

Tony's sharp gaze narrowed on Steve in suspicion. "Why?"

"I'm going to check in on Bruce and make sure he doesn't need anything," Steve replied, stepping off of the elevator as it arrived on the correct floor.

"What? Why?" Tony demanded, chasing after Steve.

Any reply Steve had died before reaching his lips. Turning a corner, both men found Clint near Bruce's lab, but he wasn't alone. Another agent, a head taller and about fifty pounds heavier than Clint had the archer backed into the wall and was looming over him menacingly. Steve couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was about the man that set him on edge, but every instinct he had screamed at him that his teammate was in trouble.

Before Steve could act, Tony suddenly strode forward. "Barton! Don't move! I've got a bone to pick with you about that air horn!"

Steve didn't miss the flash of relief on Clint's face, and he doubted Tony did either. Coming to a stop in front of Clint, Tony fixed the other agent with a dismissive look.

"You can go now," he told the agent pointedly. He turned to Clint. " _Not_ you."

The agent looked as though he wanted to argue, but Tony merely grabbed Clint by the arm and forcibly led him down the hall. Steve followed, keeping an eye on the agent until he was out of sight.

"What the hell, Barton?" Tony was saying. "Scare the guy with the heart condition?"

Clint scoffed. "Like I didn't check your medical records first? You're fine."

"And now you're recruiting?" Tony continued, ignoring Clint's reply. "You're on dangerous ground, Legolas. Better watch yourself, or I'll get Bruce on my team."

"No fair bringing biological superhuman weapons to a knife fight!" Clint protested.

"You started it!" Tony shouted back, releasing Clint's arm to wave at Steve.

"How do you even know Bruce _wants_ to be involved?" Steve spoke up.

Tony gave him an offended look. "He's my science brother. He _has_ to be on my team. It's part of the code."

"There's a code?" Steve muttered.

Clint smirked. "That's assuming he's not already involved."

The stunned look on Tony's face sent Clint cackling. " _BRUCE_!"

Tony whirled around and stomped in the direction of Bruce's lab. Clint used the distraction to grab Steve's arm and run in the opposite direction.

"Are you sure it was a good idea throwing Bruce's name out there like that?" Steve asked, following Clint into a stairwell and down the stairs.

"He'll be fine," Clint called back, leading Steve onto the sixteenth floor and through the hall. "It was time for him to take a break anyway. If anyone can handle Tony, it's him."

Steve shook his head and let himself chuckle at the image Clint put in his head. It had been awhile since he'd felt like one of the guys, and he missed it.

As they ducked into a vacant conference room to wait out Tony's tirade, all thoughts of the agent harassing Clint slipped out of Steve's mind.

* * *

end chapter 2

 **A/N** : Sorry for the reeeeeeally long hiatus. I'm still working on this story though.


	3. Chapter 3: Natasha

Chapter Three: Natasha

 _3 Days Later_

Clint closed the door to Tony's lab, smirking at the surprise he'd left waiting for Tony's return from his board meeting in Malibu. Glancing up at the security camera nearby, he winked and waved, then moved towards the elevators. If he hurried, he'd only be a couple minutes late for lunch.

Turning the last corner, the archer was nearly at the elevators when he suddenly found his way blocked by Agents Adler and Cruz. Both men appeared to have been expecting him.

Clint tensed, but tried to play it off. "Hey, boys. Long time, no see."

Cruz snorted. "Not long enough."

Clint sensed a movement behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder to find two more agents there, blocking his retreat.

"Something I can do for you gentlemen?" Clint asked, turning his attention back to Adler.

"I think you've done enough," Cruz stated. "Thirty-four people are dead because of _you_ , and you're still strutting around HQ scot free."

Clint tried to control his flinch, but he knew he wasn't entirely successful. "How many times do I have to tell you- _Loki_ was responsible. I couldn't stop him."

"Didn't even _try_ , though, did you?" Adler spat, crowding into Clint's personal space. Clint was very aware of the other three agents closing in on him from all sides. "You looked very _comfortable_ as Loki's pet. You even helped Loki escape his punishment from us."

"Thor took him to Asgard to face his punishment with his own people," Clint pointed out, trying to calculate the best avenue of escape.

His arms were suddenly seized by the two agents behind him, holding him in place. Clint instinctively fought against the restraining grip, but he felt a foot hooking around his right ankle, immobilizing him further.

"Well, if we can't punish Loki, we'll just have to punish the next best thing, won't we?" Adler asked.

Cruz moved into Adler's position, metal glinting on his knuckles as he pulled his fist back. Clint lifted his chin, determined to meet the attack without fear.

The blow never landed.

As Cruz's fist swung closer, a pair of smaller hands caught his wrist and twisted sharply until there was a loud _pop_. Cruz cried out in pain, doubling over and cradling his wrist to his chest. Clint stared dumbly at Cruz, then looked up to find an incensed Natasha Romanov watching him.

The hands restraining Clint suddenly fell away, leaving Clint staggering to find his balance. Adler backed up, placing Clint between himself and Natasha.

"Hey, Nat," Clint greeted, straightening.

Natasha's cool gaze flickered over Clint, taking inventory of his condition before focusing on the three agents behind him. "You have exactly ten seconds to disappear. If you're still here after that, then I will make you disappear permanently."

The men scrambled comically, grabbing at each other's arms and running down the hall. Adler grabbed at Cruz's uninjured arm and tugged him away from Natasha as fast as he could.

"That was almost sweet, Tasha," Clint told her, moving around her to the elevators. He pressed the button to summon the next car.

"How long has this been going on, Clint?" Natasha demanded.

"It's nothing, Nat, just some idiots letting off some steam," Clint told her. "Just forget it."

"Clint," Natasha tried again.

The elevator arrived, the doors sliding open. Clint headed inside. "I'm late for lunch with Bruce and Steve. Do you want to come with?"

Natasha followed him onto the elevator, if only to continue the conversation. "Clint, it's been _three months_ since Loki. Tell me that this hasn't been going on in all that time."

"Natasha, _please_ ," Clint said, his tone harder than he meant to make it. "People were hurt by what I did. They just need time to get past it. I'll be fine. I can take care of myself. Please, just let it go."

Natasha's eyes narrowed as she studied Clint.

"Fine," she relented at last. "If you're determined to play whipping boy for something out of your control, who am I to deny you?"

Clint's shoulders sagged in relief. "Thanks, Nat."

Natasha wasn't finished. "Don't misunderstand me, _yastreb_. My willingness to let you torture yourself does not extend to letting others help you. If you don't start defending yourself, then after I'm done dealing with those morons, I'll be coming for you next."

Clint let out a bark of surprised laughter. "Thanks, Nat," he said again, this time with more warmth.

They rode in companionable silence for a few moments until the elevator slowed and stopped, depositing them onto the floor just down the hall from the cafeteria.

"Oh," Clint said as he led Natasha down the hall. "Congratulations on officially making it onto the Avengers. That's great."

Natasha shrugged. "I haven't accepted the position yet. I'm not sure I should."

Clint stopped in his tracks just outside the cafeteria door and turned to face Natasha head on. "What? Why not?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow at Clint. "Come on, Clint, really? Between Stark's ego and Banner's alter-ego, not to mention Cap's single-minded focus, there isn't a lot of room for teamwork. Besides; it won't be as much fun without you there."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss them just yet," Clint told her. "They aren't so bad once you break through all those walls. Bruce is actually pretty hilarious. And Steve is _devious_ when it comes to pulling pranks. Give Tony time; he'll grow on you eventually."

Natasha's other eyebrow lifted to join the first. "You've been busy while I've been gone."

Clint shrugged, turning and leading her into the cafeteria. "I had to find _something_ to do. Besides, Tony's really fun to rile up."

Bruce and Steve were already sitting at a table on the other side of the cafeteria. Clint grabbed a tray, piled some food on it, and headed straight for them.

"Hey, sorry I'm late, but look who I found!" Clint stated, sliding into a chair beside Bruce.

Both men nodded at Natasha as she claimed the chair beside Steve. "Mind if I join you boys?"

"Not at all," Steve replied. "Is Clint recruiting you, too?"

"For what?" Natasha asked.

"Epic paintball battle," Clint said, digging into his lunch with gusto. "This Saturday. Tony's getting back from Malibu on Friday."

"Does it have to be paintballs?" Steve asked.

"How about laser tag?" Bruce suggested. "I think the Other Guy will handle that better than little paint pellets."

Natasha blinked at how easily Bruce spoke of his alter-ego.

"On one condition," Clint replied. "Tony's not allowed anywhere near my gear. I don't put it past him to stick me with a tracker or a malfunctioning gun."

"Maybe we should put you two on the same team," Steve suggested.

Clint shot him a wounded look. "What did I ever do to you?"

"I heard Thor's back Earthside," Bruce said. "Supposedly he's in New Mexico visiting with Dr. Foster."

"Where did you hear that?" Natasha asked, curious.

"Dr. Foster's assistant posted it on Facebook," Bruce replied simply.

Clint, Steve, and Natasha stared, stunned, at Bruce.

"I'm not sure where to begin with that statement," Clint admitted.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "It's the twenty-first century. It's not _that_ weird that I'm on Facebook and friends with some colleagues."

"Tony totally set you up with all that," Clint stated.

"That's neither here nor there," Bruce replied primly.

"You think Thor would come up if we called him?" Steve asked.

"Can't hurt to ask," Clint said. "Maybe Bruce can message him on Facebook for us."

Bruce elbowed Clint in the side.

As the three men continued to chat about their plans for the rest of the week, Natasha watched them, barely containing her surprise. The Bruce and Steve that she had left behind after the Battle of New York were not the same men sitting at the table with her and Clint.

Her eyes met Clint's across the table. Clint winked at her knowingly.

Bruce was beginning to make noises about returning to the experiments in his lab when Natasha happened to catch a very familiar glint of mischief in Clint's eyes.

"Hey," Clint spoke up suddenly. "Do you know what I'd like to see?"

"Your next birthday?" Natasha asked. "Because I can't promise that if you say whatever it is that just popped into your head."

Clint laid a hand over his heart. "That hurts, Nat. Really."

Natasha gave him a pointed look.

"Seriously," Clint continued, straightening in his seat. "Wouldn't it be cool to see Captain America and Black Widow face off in a sparring match?"

Steve looked at Natasha. "Um . . . I don't think that would be a good idea."

In spite of herself, Natasha turned to face him. "Afraid you can't handle me, Cap?"

Steve's face reddened, but to his credit, he pressed on. "Natasha, I _do_ have enhanced speed and strength. That's nothing to sneeze at."

"Oh my God, this is going to be great!" Clint exclaimed, grinning wildly.

Natasha glared at him. "I didn't agree."

"Neither did I," Steve chimed in.

"You just basically told Nat that she can't win," Clint told him. "She's not going to let that go. And if she says it's going to happen, then you're not getting out of it."

Natasha turned back to Steve. "Winner faces Clint in round two?"

The smile of glee slid from Clint's face. "Wait. What?"

"Deal," Steve agreed, reaching out to shake Natasha's hand.

"What?" Clint protested as Natasha and Steve stood. "No deal! There's no deal!"

Bruce smirked, standing as well. "What do you know?" he said. "This _is_ going to be great."

* * *

Phil Coulson glanced up from his book as Nick Fury appeared in his doorway, a smirk on his face.

"How are you feeling?" Fury asked him.

Phil carefully placed his bookmark in his book, then set it aside. "Better every day," he replied cautiously. "Why?"

"I was wondering if you felt up for a walk to the gym," Fury said.

"I already had my PT for the day," Phil replied, his mind racing to figure out why his old friend was in his hospital room.

"Oh, it's not for you," Fury replied. "It seems that there's a big sparring match about to take place between Rogers and Romanov. Barton's taking winner. Or winner's taking him for putting them up to it. Either way, it should be a good show. So; walking or wheelchair?"

Phil tossed his blanket aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Walking, but you're going to have to spot me."

Fury tossed him a robe to tie over his sweats. "Get a move on, then. I'm not missing this."

The gym was more crowded than usual by the time Phil shuffled inside, Fury a steady presence by his side. He paused long enough to find Clint and Bruce standing beside the sparring mats before Fury led him to sit down at a nearby weight bench.

"You know, if you told me a week ago that I'd find Barton and Banner taking bets on a fight between Rogers and Romanov, I wouldn't have believed you," Fury said, watching Natasha and Steve stretching on opposite corners of the mat.

"How about if I told you that Rogers was assisting Clint in his prank war against Stark?" Phil asked.

Fury turned to Phil. "So that rumor's true? God, those two are a menace."

Phil smirked. "I think you'd have more to worry about once Clint and Stark decide to join forces."

"Don't make me put you back in a coma," Fury threatened. He turned back to the mats as Natasha threw the first punch at Steve. "Still, it looks like that team you were hoping to build with America's greatest misfits might not be such a long shot after all."

Phil watched as Bruce laughed at something Clint told him and felt his lips curl up into a proud smile.

* * *

end chapter 3

 **A/N:** Trying to finish and not have it a WIP anymore. Tony's next!


	4. Chapter 4: Tony

**A/N:** There is one very tiny spoiler for Captain America: Civil War. I just brought some tech forward a couple years. Be warned!

Chapter Four: Tony

 _1 Week Later_

"Say it!"

"Screw you, Tony!"

"Nope, not that."

"Let go!"

"Not until you tell me what I want to hear."

"Not gonna happen!"

"Have it your way."

Tony's yawn was loud and obnoxious. Trapped in a headlock and unable to break free, Clint twisted left and right, fighting against Tony's hold.

"I can do this all day, Katniss," Tony told him, sounding bored.

"Sure, since you're _cheating_ ," Clint griped, pounding uselessly on the Iron Man arm hooked around his throat.

"All's fair in love and prank wars," Tony replied.

Clint sagged in defeat against Tony behind him. "Fine. You win. Uncle."

"Victory!" Tony threw his arms in the air, releasing Clint. Clint staggered away, putting several feet between himself and Tony.

"Ass," Clint muttered without heat. "Do you always walk around with an Iron Arm?"

Tony pushed a button on his watch. Clint watched as the arm seemed to fold in on itself, packing itself away into the watch.

Clint let out a huff of laughter, impressed in spite of himself. "Cool."

Tony smirked and sat on a stool. He glanced around the lab, taking in Clint's latest prank.

Every object in the lab had been wrapped in aluminum foil. The tables, cabinets, equipment, even the stool Tony sat on was covered in foil.

"I have to admit, Barton, this is pretty impressive," Tony commented. "It must have taken hours."

Clint shrugged, sitting on another foil-wrapped stool across from the foil-wrapped table from Tony. "Can't have taken any more time than you spent building those dumb cupid drones with my face on them."

Tony chuckled. "Talk about a waste of time. Tell me something; why?"

"Why the foil?" Clint asked. "It honestly seemed like a good idea at the time."

Tony waved the reason away and leaned forward over the table. "I mean, why the prank war? And why me?"

Clint studied Tony for a long moment, choosing his words carefully.

"You have very high expectations of yourself," he finally said. "You take yourself too seriously."

Tony stared at Clint, surprised at his answer.

"Well," he said, finally finding his voice. "I can _honestly_ say that no one's ever accused me of _that_ before."

Clint snorted. "You put on a very good show for the public, but when it comes to your tech, you are always on point. Look, I'm not a shrink, and I'm not going to try to find hidden meanings and shit. I just know that if you keep on raising the bar without cutting yourself some slack every once in a while, you'll start to crash and burn."

"So your solution to all that was to paint all of my suits hot pink?" Tony replied.

Clint smiled cheekily. "Well, purple was my first choice, but pink was close enough to red for you to not notice until you were already wearing it."

Tony chuckled and regarded the archer with new eyes.

"So what do you get out of all this?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Clint shrugged. "A target?"

Tony was undeterred. "And?"

A devious smile grew on Clint's face. "A partner in crime?"

A matching smile appeared on Tony's face. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

* * *

Twenty-four hours was all that it took for the Barton-Stark Reign of Terror to spread throughout S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.

Fury slammed several file folders down on his desk in disgust, glaring over at Phil, who was seated in one of the chairs across from him. "Can't you do anything about them, Phil?"

Phil quirked an eyebrow. "I'm still on medical leave."

"So far I have complaints of glitter bombs on the HR floors, water balloon attacks on the practice ranges, and the medwing decked out entirely in Captain America paraphernalia," Fury stated. "And that was just this morning. I want to know whose brilliant idea it was to leave those two holy terrors in a room together unsupervised!"

"Again, Director, I'm still on medical leave," Phil repeated. "I'm not certain what you expect me to do."

"I expect you to rein in your asset and his new best friend," Fury snarked. "I don't mind the occasional joke, but we do have a job to do. I don't need those two disrupting that."

Muffled laughter from just outside Fury's closed door drew both agents' attention away. Phil couldn't help the smirk.

"I can see how that kind of noise can be distracting," he commented.

"No one likes a smart ass," Fury replied. "Your doctors cleared you for very light duty. Barton already listens to you. Get him to behave, and the other one will fall in line."

"I doubt it," Phil muttered.

Laughter erupted outside of Fury's door again. Fury glared at it, then at Phil.

"Don't tell me you _approve_ ," he said.

"I approve of any constructive use of time that keeps Barton occupied and out of serious trouble," Phil stated calmly. "Has he tampered with the security system?"

"No," Fury replied.

More muffled laughter outside his door punctuated his answer.

"Did the water get near any weapons?" Phil continued.

"No," Fury answered.

"Did the medwing makeover hinder any staff from performing their duties?" Phil pressed on.

"That's not the point," Fury snapped.

"That's _exactly_ the point," Phil replied. "Until they cross a line and compromise S.H.I.E.L.D. security or operations, I plan to let them carry on."

More laughter interrupted Fury's tirade. Snarling in frustration, he stood and strode to his door, yanking it open. "What in the _hell_ is so _funny_?"

The agents in the hall near his office took off running, but Fury paid them no mind. His attention was focused on his door, which was covered entirely in a layer of yellow post-it notes. In blue post-it notes, the words 'Dread Pirate Fury' had been spelled out.

Fury looked both ways down the halls outside his office. "You _better_ run, because God help you when I catch you!"

Phil tilted his head slightly as he heard snickering from the vents.

Fury whirled on Phil, anger blazing in his eye. "If you aren't going to be part of the solution, then get out."

Phil stood. "As you wish, sir."

Choked laughter from the vents distracted Fury long enough for Phil to make his escape.

* * *

Agent Alan Parks was two steps inside his on-base quarters when he realized he wasn't alone.

"Mr. Stark?" Parks said, spying the billionaire examining his few pictures on the wall. "Er . . . what are you doing here?"

Tony turned from his perusal and cast a speculative gaze up and down Parks.

"I'm here to deliver a message," Tony told him. "About a week or so back, I noticed you and Agent Barton having a rather . . . _intense_ conversation."

Parks tensed. "Oh yeah?"

Tony nodded and stepped closer to Parks, his eyes boring straight into Parks'.

"See, the thing is, I'm pretty particular with people messing with my stuff," Tony stated with an uncharacteristically serious tone. "I've decided that Agent Barton qualifies. So consider yourself warned. You won't like what happens if you continue to mess with him."

Parks snorted. "Right," he said, unconcerned. "I'll be sure to watch my back."

Tony smiled, but it was cold. "Good. See that you do."

He bumped his shoulder into Parks, pushing past the agent and out of the room.

The minute the door clicked shut, Parks heard a small beep, followed by a deafening pop.

Parks let out a cry of surprise as his vision exploded in streams of red and gold. By the time his shock had faded, he and his entire room were completely covered in sticky strands of red and gold string. Parks pinched one strand in his fingers and pulled it away from his arm, grimacing as it fought his tug.

The enormity of the prank settled on Parks; there was not one piece of furniture or wall that was free from the string. It was going to take _hours_ to clean.

"Son of a bitch!" Parks roared.

In the hall, Tony smirked in satisfaction and walked away.

* * *

end chapter 4


	5. Chapter 5: Thor

Chapter Five: Thor

 _2 Days Later_

Phil entered the gym and stopped short at the sight before him.

On the sparring mat, Steve had Natasha balanced on his shoulders. They were facing off against Thor, who had Clint perched upon his shoulders. It looked to Phil as thought they were playing some new version of chicken.

They had amassed a few spectators, but as Phil approached, they scattered back to their workouts.

Clint was the first to see him. "Phil! Hey!"

Natasha's foot lashed out, kicking Clint in the side. Clint grunted, and he and Thor both adjusted their stances to keep upright.

"So exactly what situation is this exercise preparing you for?" Phil asked, curious.

"Nat and I are balanced on the shoulders of a Norse god and a genetically enhanced super soldier three months after aliens invaded New York," Clint said, blocking a blow from Steve. "I doubt there's a training we could come up with that wouldn't eventually be useful."

Phil considered that point for a moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. When you are finished, I'd like a word with both Captain Rogers and Agent Romanov."

Clint smirked. "Getting called to the Vice Principal's office already, huh?"

"Says the agent with a chair reserved especially for him in same said office," Phil shot back.

Clint's surprise at the retort was all the opening Natasha needed. Leaping off of Steve's shoulders, she dove at Clint, knocking him to the ground and settling herself atop Thor's shoulders.

"Clinton!" Thor cried. "We have been bested again!"

Clint sat up on the mat, shaking his head. "I want to say that that was unfair, but something tells me it'll just get me extra sparring sessions at some random time in the middle of the night," he said.

Natasha smirked down at him. "Finally, the little voice inside your head is giving you good advice."

"It should last until he reaches the locker room," Steve chimed in.

Clint turned wounded eyes to Phil. "Phil! They're picking on me!"

"If you feel strongly about it, Form HR17-B is in the top drawer of my second filing cabinet," Phil replied evenly. "You know where; you've been the subject of that form since you started at SHIELD."

Clint flopped back onto the mat, arms akimbo. "Where's the love?"

"Son of Coul," Thor said, turning to face Phil once Natasha had gracefully leaped to the floor. "Do you also require my presence?"

Phil considered him for a long moment. "Not at this time, Thor, but I may need to speak with you at a later time."

"Of course," Thor replied, bowing slightly. "You have only but to ask."

As Natasha and Steve followed Phil out of the gym, Thor turned and grasped Clint's arms, lifting the archer effortlessly to his feet. "Clint, let us retrieve Stark and Banner and enjoy a hearty repast."

"You think we can tear Tony away from his latest pet project?" Clint asked, walking with Thor towards the locker rooms.

"If persuasion does not work in removing the obstacle from Stark, it will be a simple matter of removing Stark from the obstacle instead," Thor replied.

Clint narrowed his eyes at Thor. "If it comes to that, don't you dare do it until I have my phone ready to record. Nat would _kill_ me if I missed videoing that."

Thor grinned broadly as the two entered the locker room to clean up. Clint finished quickly, privately grateful that the locker room was mostly deserted. He doubted any of the agents would try anything with Thor close by, but he didn't want to take any chances.

Clint called out to Thor that he would wait for the god in the hall, then headed for the door. He pushed the door open and came face to face with Agent Cruz.

Cruz recovered from his shock first, his face screwing up in fury as he grabbed a fistful of Clint's t-shirt in his left hand and propelled him against the wall just inside the locker room.

"Cruz, take it easy," Clint said, forcing his voice to stay low and calm. His eyes flickered to the next room where Thor was still cleaning up, then down to the cast wrapped around Cruz's right hand. He lifted his eyes back to Cruz's angered face. "I don't want any trouble."

Cruz leaned in on Clint. "Then you shouldn't have sided with a megalomaniacal god and killed our friends," he snarled.

"I didn't have a choice," Clint said wearily. "I was under Loki's mind control spell."

"A convenient excuse." Cruz tightened his grip and raised his casted hand, a thin blade glinting in his injured fingers. He pressed the tip of the blade under Clint's chin, forcing Clint to lean his head back. "You are the reason that my friends . . . my _girlfriend_ died. You don't deserve to be alive, let alone still walk around this base like— _oomph_!"

Cruz was suddenly pulled away from Clint and lifted off of his feet. Clint, unexpectedly freed, slumped back against the wall and blinked in surprise at Thor.

Thor's expression was angrier than Clint had ever seen as he glowered at Cruz. He turned back to Clint, concern flickering into his eyes. "Are you uninjured, Clint?"

"I'm fine, Thor," Clint replied. "Let him go."

Thor tightened his grip on the back of Cruz's jacket. "I shall not! This man threatened you; he should be clapped in irons and answer to a tribunal for his crime!"

"If anyone should answer for his crimes, it's that traitor!" Cruz yelled, twisting in Thor's grip.

Clint could sense Thor preparing to argue and hurried to defuse the rising tension in the room. "Thor, please. He's angry, and he has every right to be. He lost good friends on the attack on the Helicarrier. An attack that I helped orchestrate."

Cruz twisted again. "You fucking traitor!"

Clint swallowed back the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. "I'm not saying he's right in how he went about it, but he isn't wrong to want justice for his friends. Please, put him down and let him go."

Thor considered Clint for an achingly long moment, then turned Cruz to face him.

"Clint Barton is under my protection," he said, his commanding tone strongly reminding Clint that this god was also a prince and heir to an entire realm with all the training and upbringing that went with it. "He has already been judged and found innocent of any crime perpetrated during the battle with Loki. Should any harm come to him by you or your compatriots, I will hold you accountable for the crime and will enact judgment as I see fit."

The fire in Cruz's eyes had doused significantly, but as Thor finally set him down and released him, he found one more baleful glare for Clint before he slunk off deeper into the locker room.

Clint's shoulders slumped. "Thanks, Thor. We'd better get going if we want to get Tony and Bruce in time for dinner."

He escaped into the hall, but was pulled up short by Thor's hand on his shoulder. "Clint," he began.

"It's nothing, Thor, just forget what happened, okay?" Clint asked, refusing to look at the god.

"Clinton, I cannot forget what happened when I must beg your forgiveness for my part in allowing this to happen," Thor replied.

Clint gave a start, blinking up at Thor in surprise. "I . . . what?"

"Loki is of my house, and his actions are the responsibility of my family," Thor told him. Straightening his frame, he bowed formally to Clint. "I, Thor, son and heir of Odin AllFather, heir to the throne of Asgard, humbly offer our deepest apologies for the harm that our family has brought to you and your people. We will bear full responsibility for Loki's actions as you deem fit."

Clint opened and closed his mouth, speechless at the gesture. He glanced up and down the hall to see if anyone was watching, then turned back to Thor.

"Thor, you didn't do anything to me," Clint told him. "You have nothing to apologize for."

Thor raised himself from his bow, his expression older and more haggard than Clint had ever seen it. "You have been greatly wronged by my brother, Clint, and you continue to suffer the consequences of his actions. This is not acceptable."

In spite of himself, Clint snorted. "Very little of this whole situation is acceptable, Thor, but on Earth we believe that each person is responsible for their own actions. Trust me, no one blames you for what your brother did."

Thor studied Clint with shrewd eyes. "You said you helped Loki organize the attack on the Helicarrier. Surely you do not hold yourself accountable for Loki's actions either?"

"Whether or not I hold myself accountable doesn't matter to people like Cruz," Clint told him. "I wouldn't worry about it. They'll get over it eventually. Just . . . can you keep this incident between us? I don't want it getting back to Nat or Phil. It'd just make them worry, and they have enough to deal with."

Thor frowned. "I shall do as you ask, but I will not allow any harm to come to you for actions that were not within your control."

"Fair enough." Clint smiled up at him. "You hungry? If not, prying Stark off of his robots will work up an appetite. If we play our cards right, maybe we can convince everyone else to go out to eat. There's this pizza place over in Brooklyn that I think Steve would just love."

Thor smiled, settling back into the jovial mood that he was most known for. "That is most excellent. And perhaps we can continue with another movie this evening? I am enjoying learning about Earth cultures through these recordings."

Clint's smile widened. "Sounds like a great plan. Between you, Steve, and Bruce who I swear lived under a rock these last few years, we have plenty of catching up to do."

As the two friends continued down the hall, Thor couldn't help but to cast a surreptitious eye around the hallway as though searching for any other hints of danger to his friend.

* * *

 **A/N:** Still working on this fic. This chapter wasn't as much about Thor as I originally planned, but it helps build to the finale. I'm coming up to the end and hope to finish soon!


	6. Chapter 6: Clint

Chapter Six: Clint

Director Fury leaned against the arm of his chair, his chin propped up on his hand as he stared down his long-time friend across his desk. Phil was seated in his usual chair, meeting Fury's gaze head on and without the slightest hint of discomfort.

The silence stretched between them, both comfortable with letting it continue until the other one broke it. Fury allowed himself the tiniest smirk of amusement; of everyone on the planet that he knew or knew of him, Phil Coulson was on the very short list of people he could not fully intimidate.

"I told you I wasn't going to let this go," Phil reminded Fury.

"I remember," Fury replied.

"Clint has more than earned that spot on the team," Phil continued. "The team has begun to work together and has even managed to successfully complete several training scenarios together. Their increased cohesiveness is down to Clint."

"Who participated in those scenarios, even though he hasn't been officially cleared for even SHIELD missions yet," Fury pointed out.

Phil quirked an eyebrow, the equivalent of a full eye-roll from anyone else. "Why hasn't he been approved for the Initiative then?"

Fury sighed wearily, leaning forward and folding his hands on his desk. "Phil, I'm trying, but the Council is still pushing me back on this." He held up a hand to ward off the protest that had been about to spring forth from Phil. "I know how hard that kid has worked, not only here at SHIELD, but at bringing everyone together into something that can almost be described as a functioning team. For fuck's sake, he got Stark to actually work _with_ R and D instead of making up impossible shit for them to do. But unless you can find a way to change the Council's mind, my hands are tied."

Phil's expression was as bland as Fury had ever seen it, but he could practically feel the anger radiating off of his old friend. "You know, all it would take would be a word to Stark about the situation and he'd be all over this. He could dig up everything on every member of that Council that we could use as leverage."

Fury's eyebrows lifted. "Blackmail, Phil? Didn't think you'd go there just yet."

"Clint deserves to be an Avenger, and I won't let anyone stand in his way," Phil replied. "And after these last few weeks, I think it's safe to say that the rest of the Avengers are behind me on this."

The two lapsed into another staring contest. A knock sounded on the door, followed by Maria Hill entering the office. She paused at the sight of Phil and Fury staring each other down and cleared her throat.

"Right," she said. "Sorry to barge in while you two are . . . _busy_ , but we have a situation in downtown Manhattan that could use the Avengers."

Both men stood, turning to Maria. "Report," Fury barked as he and Phil followed Maria out of the office and down the hall to their temporary command center.

"It appears that some of our less-than-reputable citizens managed to scavenge some of the Chitauri weapons and are currently using them on a looting spree downtown," Maria reported briskly. "Our agents have managed to box them in, but the weapons are preventing us from getting much closer to them."

"You up to a trial run with your team?" Fury asked Phil. "We couldn't have asked for a better field test than this."

"With or without Barton?" Phil asked.

Fury gave him a look.

"This isn't over," Phil promised as he moved farther down the hall and toward the elevators.

* * *

Phil found his team easily just down the hall from his office. He hadn't pinpointed when, but Tony and Clint had taken over one of the empty storerooms on his floor and had converted it into a break room for the team to use. The room was fully equipped with a small kitchenette and groceries, as well as a sixty-inch flat screen television, video game console, stereo system, and plenty of movies to watch. To date, only Avengers had been allowed access to the room, though Phil had seen several senior agents stop by as well.

Clint, Thor, and Tony were crowded onto a sofa that Phil suspected had been liberated from a break room two floors down. The three were engaged in the middle of some sort of car racing game while Steve watched over the top of his book from another chair. Natasha was perched on a stool at the kitchenette while Bruce was making tea. Phil took a moment to note the ease with which the six of them interacted with one another and felt a small burst of pride at his team.

Steve noticed him first, setting his book aside and sitting up in his chair. "Phil? Everything okay?"

Phil took a deep breath and straightened his back. "I'm afraid not, Captain. There's a situation downtown that needs the Avengers."

"Awesome!" Tony paused the game and jumped to his feet. "I've been looking for a reason to test out my latest upgrades."

"Like you ever need a reason," Natasha shot back, also rising to her feet with the rest of the team.

Phil couldn't help but glance at Clint, who was still seated on the couch and studiously avoiding his eyes.

"I'll brief you on the way, but I'll be running point in the van," Phil stated. "Suit up. We leave in five minutes."

The group started to move towards the door when Steve paused, spying Clint on the couch. "Clint? You coming?"

Clint looked up at Steve, then back down at the controller in his hands. "Uh, actually, no. Good luck, though. Keep your head down."

As one, the rest of the team paused and turned to Clint in surprise, save for Natasha.

"What do you mean, you're not coming?" Tony demanded. "Didn't you hear Agent? He needs the Avengers."

Bruce frowned at Clint's wince and took in the frustration and anger on Phil and Natasha's faces. "Uh, Tony . . ."

"Agent Barton is not at present a member of the Avengers Initiative." The words cost Phil more than he wanted to admit. "He is not authorized to participate in this mission."

Steve, Tony, Thor, and Bruce's heads turned, as one, to Phil, back to Clint, and then to Phil once more.

"Why the hell not?" Tony demanded.

"Who says he isn't an Avenger?" Steve chimed in, outrage clear in his expression.

"Clint has already proved himself in battle with the Chitauri," Thor pointed out.

"I will be happy to address your concerns once Manhattan is no longer at risk of being demolished by trigger-happy criminals," Phil replied. "We need to leave."

"The hell we do," Tony challenged. "If Clint isn't going, I'm not going."

"No!"

All eyes in the room turned to Clint, who had stood up front the couch and was facing the team.

"It's not Phil's fault," he stated. "He's been fighting to get me on the team. It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine," Natasha told him sternly. "You're one of us."

"I appreciate that," Clint told her. He included the rest of the room in his gaze. "Really, I do. But you can't let this be the reason to ground the team. The world needs the Avengers. You have to go. I'll be fine, I promise."

Steve looked torn. "I don't like this."

Clint let out a bark of humorless laughter. "Trust me, Cap, I'm not a fan of it either. But Phil always gets his way eventually. I'll just sit this round out for now. Okay?"

"We need to go," Phil said quietly.

Natasha moved first, walking over to Clint to grab his arm and squeeze it affectionately. Clint nodded at her.

As Natasha headed for the door, Bruce was next. He moved to Clint, catching his eye and holding his gaze.

"We _will_ fix this as soon as we get back," he promised.

Clint smiled faintly. "Sure, Doc. Go kick butt, okay?"

Steve and Thor were next, taking Bruce's place as Bruce joined Natasha in the hall.

"You're one of us, Clint," Steve told him. "Whoever says otherwise has to deal with us."

"Thanks, guys," Clint replied quietly.

Tony's arms were folded, a frown deep on his face. Clint smiled in spite of himself.

"Go on, Tony," he said. "You know they'll be lost without you there."

"This is bullshit," Tony stated.

"You'll get no argument from me," Clint replied. "Go take out a couple bad guys for me, huh?"

Tony reached out and lightly punched Clint's shoulder. "You got it. See you in a bit."

Phil waited for Tony to leave the room, then approached his asset. "I'm sorry, Clint."

Clint shrugged. "Not your fault."

Phil sighed. "If you want to keep tabs on us, you can head up to the command center. Just because you can't go in the field doesn't mean you can't participate in the op."

Clint nodded.

Phil turned to go, paused, then turned back to Clint. "The Avengers are a team because of _you_ , Clint. You've brought Dr. Banner out of his shell, helped catch Thor and Captain Rogers up on modern Earth cultures. You've even, god help me, shown Stark how to be a team player. Nothing that the World Security Council says will change that." Reaching out, he gently clasped the back of Clint's neck. "You're already a part of this team in the way it really counts."

Clint flushed, but gave Phil a shy smile.

Phil returned the smile and released Clint. "Now, I have to go handle this threat, but when I get back, we will tackle this thing head on."

Clint nodded. "Yes, sir. You'd better get a move on before the team leaves you behind."

Leaving Clint behind was one of the hardest things Phil could remember having to do, but he vowed to himself that it would be the absolute last time.

* * *

Once Phil had left the breakroom, Clint flopped back down onto the couch and unpaused the game, trying to distract himself from thinking about his team . . . his _friends_ . . . heading off into danger. He lasted all of five minutes before he switched off the game and tossed the controller to one side, giving up.

Knowing that Phil and the others were heading into danger without him being there to watch their backs was difficult for the archer. He knew, better than anyone, that they were all more than capable of protecting themselves and each other. Still, not being able to fight alongside them did not sit well with him.

Sighing, Clint stood and decided to take Phil up on his suggestion of observing the battle from the command center with Fury. Maybe he could offer tactical advice, if nothing else.

He strode from the room, heading towards the bank of elevators that would take him up to the appropriate floor. His mind was so occupied with possible scenarios and strategies to counter each one that Clint never heard his attacker slip behind him.

* * *

"Iron Man, watch your back!"

Phil barely held back a wince as Tony narrowly avoided a head shot from one of the gunman that they had pinned down behind several wrecked cars. Though he knew that Tony's armor was capable of sustaining significant damage, he didn't particularly want to test its ability in the field. Steve's voice continued to call out warnings and instructions over the radio, but the seamlessness of their training sessions was missing.

"Cap, I've got another gunman pinned down in a café two blocks east of you!" Natasha called out. "I could use a diversion."

"Thor?" Steve called.

A grunt replied. Phil stepped out of the back of the van and watched as Thor was struck by another weapons blast, propelling him into a nearby building.

"Stark," Phil called into his radio, an idea beginning to germinate in his mind. "Can you alter the frequency of a standard EMP to disable the Chitauri weapons all at once?"

"Sure," came Tony's flippant response. "I'll just grab one of the weapons and test its frequency range. Do you suppose one of our friends will be nice enough to let me borrow one?"

Phil ignored the sarcasm, moving through the battle zone and taking care to remain as unobtrusive as possible. His eyes were focused on the gunman who had struck Thor, hiding behind a delivery truck. Carefully, he crept into an alcove that led into an abandoned bakery and lifted his radio to his mouth.

"Thor, or Stark," he said quietly. "Can either of you send an electrical impulse into the Whole Foods delivery truck on sixth? I'll take care of the rest?"

"Shit, are you out of the van?" Stark replied. "Fury'll kill us if you get injured again."

"Can you do it or not?" Phil demanded.

"Stand ready, Agent Coulson," Thor stated.

From his position, Phil couldn't see Thor, but he did see the truck in question rock as Mjolnir struck it. The gunman stumbled against the truck as it was immediately engulfed in blue waves of electricity, crying out and convulsing as the pulse swept from the truck and into him.

Phil seized the rubber floor mat in front of the bakery and took off running towards the gunman. Using the mat to guard his hands, Phil dropped it on top of the Chitauri gun and yanked it free of the gunman's grip. Spinning, Phil used his momentum to swing the gun around and strike the gunman across the face, knocking him free of the electrified truck and onto the ground.

"I've got a gun you can borrow, Stark," he stated, turning to look in Tony's direction. "Now, do you think you can do it?"

"After that show, who could say no?" Tony replied. He flew through the air and dropped to the ground beside Phil within minutes, taking the gun that Phil held out to him.

"I'm going to get our friend back to the van and into custody," Phil told Tony. "Try and hurry up? I have more urgent matters to take care of than collecting guns from low-level criminals."

"Yes, dear," Tony replied, his tone distracted as he turned his focus onto a new puzzle. Phil left him to it, dragging the gunman to his feet and all but dragging him back towards the relative safety of SHIELD's surveillance van.

Once Tony had worked out the correct frequency, the battle was over. The gunmen surrendered to strategically positioned SHIELD agents around downtown as soon as they realized that their high-tech weapons were no longer functional. Phil turned over command of the scene to Sitwell and went to join the rest of the Avengers.

"Sorry, Agent Coulson," Steve said as soon as he saw Phil approach. "We didn't come together as effectively as we could have if Hawkeye had been here with us. We need him."

"I know, Captain," Phil said. "We can cover the rest in debrief, but for now, we should get back to HQ. SHIELD can handle the cleanup."

"Sounds good," Tony stated, his face mask up. His brown eyes glinted with a hardness that was rarely seen. "I believe we have an appointment with a certain director regarding the status of our team."

Phil allowed himself to feel satisfaction that he was no longer alone in fighting for his asset, though his long-time friendship with Fury prompted him to at least speak up on Fury's behalf.

"I agree, Stark, but keep in mind that Fury isn't calling the shots," Phil stated. "He's worn down most of the World Security Council, but there's still a holdout with one of the members. They are adamantly against Agent Barton's appointment to the Avengers."

"Sounds like there's a personal motive involved if that's the case," Steve observed.

"If that's the case, I think someone's dirty laundry needs airing," Tony added. "JARVIS? Cross reference the Council members with anything tied to SHIELD, and Barton in particular."

"Yes, Sir," came JARVIS' tinny voice inside Tony's suit.

"Wait, you already have profiles on the Council members?" Phil asked, not entirely surprised.

"Of course," Tony replied. "Anyone who is willing to drop a nuke on a city of millions of people deserves to be under constant, close scrutiny. JARVIS has been building files on each of them since Bruce moved into the tower."

"Do you believe they wish to harm Hawkeye?" Thor asked, concern coloring his tone.

"We shouldn't dismiss it as a possibility," Bruce spoke up. Phil noted the lack of tension in Bruce's shoulders, relief at not needing to transform into the Hulk putting him at ease. "I'd be more concerned about them taking Clint away somewhere where we couldn't find him."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Phil said, seeing the protective anger rise up in the group of heroes. "Let's get back to headquarters and report to Fury."

If their plan of action also happened to put Clint back in their sights where they could keep an overprotective eye on him, no one commented on it.

* * *

A hood slipped down over Clint's head and tightened around his throat, restricting his air supply. Clint's surprise was immediately taken over by years of training; he immediately lashed out, arms swinging out to strike at whoever was behind him.

Both arms were immediately grabbed and held firmly, alerting Clint to the fact that there was more than one attacker. Their quick reactions to his move suggested that they were prepared for him to fight and had anticipated his moves. Clint silently cursed himself for letting his guard down. If he got out of this in one piece, Natasha was going to kill him.

Unseen hands pulled his arms behind his back, securing them in place with zipties. The hood remained in place over his head, digging into his throat as he was manhandled further down the hall. Clint dug his feet into the ground and forced his body back, but more hands appeared, practically lifting him off of his feet and all but carrying him where they wanted him to go. No amount of twisting and struggling would deter his attackers from their intended destination.

Several minutes passed when Clint was dropped onto a chair, his arms raised enough to slide over the backrest. Clint grunted in pain as his shoulders were wrenched, dimly aware of his bound hands being secured to the chair. Similarly, his legs were being tied to the front legs of the chair. His attackers weren't taking any chances of him escaping before they were through with him.

As soon as he was firmly bound, the hood was swept off of his head. Clint blinked blearily for several seconds, the images of Agents Adler and Cruz standing over him. He glanced around, spying several more agents leaving as he took in the empty on-base quarters he had been brought to.

"Well," Clint said, working through his surprise at how thoroughly the situation with the two agents had escalated. "If I had known you guys wanted a word, I could have penciled you in. No need to go through all this trouble for me."

Adler replied with a fierce backhand that rocked Clint to one side, stunning the archer. Clint gingerly felt around his mouth with his tongue, spitting a gob of blood onto the floor at their feet.

"That's how it's gonna be, huh?" he asked.

"Someone needs to be held responsible for the lives lost during the Battle of Manhattan," Adler replied. "You were the one to bring death and destruction down on us, so you will be the one to answer for it."

"So you've decided to hold a trial?" Clint asked, only half-joking. "If that's the case, then I need to speak with my lawyer. He's advised me to invoke the fifth when he's not around."

Adler backhanded him again.

Clint licked his lips, tasting more blood. "Look," he said. "No one regrets more than I do what happened. But I couldn't stop. Loki was calling the shots. I tried . . . God, I _tried_ to stop. I did, I swear."

Cruz stepped forward, punching Clint solidly in the face. Clint let the blow rock him to the side, head hanging as he swore under his breath.

"Since the director has seen fit not to charge you with any crime, we're going to do it for him," Cruz stated coldly. "Clint Barton, you are accused of treason, colluding with the enemy, and murder."

"You can't do this," Clint argued, feeling the beginnings of real fear start to creep into the pit of his stomach.

Adler leaned over, putting his face right in front of Clint's. "Actually, we _can_ do this. I have the full support of the World Security Council."

Clint's head snapped back in shock, the fear quickly growing. "What?"

Adler straightened. "For your crimes, your sentence is death. But not before we make you feel the pain of each and every one of those men and women who died because of you."

Clint was shaking his head, disbelief rattling him to his core. His eyes hardened. "This is . . . there's no way that the Council would condone this. And even if they did, you two have just signed your death warrants."

Adler's hand shot out, gripping Clint's hair and forcing his head to tip back. "There is nothing you can do to stop this from happening. Your death threats are meaningless."

Clint smirked up at Adler. "Oh, they aren't _my_ death threats. What do you think is going to happen when the Black Widow gets ahold of you? Or Agent Coulson? Do you really think they're going to just let you get away with this?"

"By then, you'll be dead, and all those agents will have been avenged," Adler replied. "Sounds like a fair trade-off to me."

Adler released Clint's hair, nodding to Cruz and stepping back. Cruz stepped forward, pulling his knife out of its sheath.

"You should know that we have friends in the hall keeping it clear of unauthorized personnel," he stated, almost conversationally. "So let's continue the discussion we started when Thor interrupted."

* * *

The cacophony in Fury's office bounced off of the walls, voices ringing out and building a crescendo that threatened to rattle the door right off of its frame until Fury had finally had enough.

"All right!" he bellowed, his deep voice carrying over the rest and quelling the din. "You've made your point! Now shut up!"

Steve stiffened into attention, his own anger simmering just under the surface. "Sir, we need Hawkeye on the team."

"I got that, Captain," Fury told him. "And as I've been telling Coulson here, I'm doing the best I can."

"Why do we need to listen to the Council anyway?" Bruce asked. "They aren't here. They can't stop us from just taking Clint along."

Fury blinked in surprise at Bruce; he had expected that sort of viewpoint from Tony. He mentally revised his opinion of the mild-mannered physicist. "While I applaud your . . . innovative solution, Dr. Banner, I'd rather keep the Avengers under direction of SHIELD. If we were to do as you suggest, the Council has let me know that they will assume control of the Initiative, and would dictate all future missions from there."

The collective expressions of the Avengers looked equal parts offended, disgusted, and belligerent. "They can't just take over like that," Steve protested. "I still have a say in whether or not I participate in missions."

"Because the Avengers falls under SHIELD's purview," Fury told him. "I assure you, Captain, that that would not be the case if the Council decides to take over."

Natasha's eyes slid over to Tony, who should have been the loudest protester in the group and who had remained uncharacteristically silent, his head bent over his tablet. "Stark? Nothing to add?"

Tony barely lifted his head up to look at the rest of the office's occupants. "Yeah, no. I've spent my entire life telling corporations and politicians that they can't in fact, boss me around and mess with my stuff. This isn't anything I haven't heard before. What I _am_ interested in adding, however, is that Congressman Harris apparently has a nephew on SHIELD's payroll."

"So?" Steve asked.

"Congressman Harris is that Council member who has been advocating for Barton to be not only kept from the Initiative, but also arrested and punished for his role in the Battle of Manhattan," Fury told Steve. "Of all the Council members, he lost the most in the attack, including his wife. He's been advocating for all people responsible, brainwashed or not, to stand trial and be punished for what happened." He turned to Tony. "We already know this. We have background checks for a reason. Agent Adler has already made it perfectly clear to everyone within hearing distance that he agrees with his uncle, but hasn't acted on his opinions."

"That's not entirely true," Phil spoke up.

Eyes swung in his direction as he continued. "I was going to bring this to your attention, Director, once the situation with Clint and the Council had been resolved. Agent Adler, along with several other agents, have been participating in activities that they perceive as retribution for Clint's part in the attacks."

Thor's fist suddenly swung down, thudding against Fury's desk hard enough to make everything on top of it jump.

"This issue has been handled and resolved!" he exclaimed. "Clint Barton was as much a victim of my brother as everyone else injured in the battle. If I must, I will have my family grant Agent Barton royal amnesty and a full pardon to convince others."

"It isn't the official line that has been the problem," Natasha stated. "Officially, Clint is not responsible for his actions. Unfortunately, some people liked Adler don't agree and want to take matters into their own hands."

"I have incident reports from both Agent Romanov and Captain Rogers," Phil continued. "I'm sure there are more incidents that Agent Barton himself can weigh in on, but it's enough to get an investigation started and suspensions enacted."

Fury rubbed his face with one hand. "Fine. I'll get Hill to run with that. Give her a copy of your files. In the meantime-."

"Shit!" Tony's head snapped up, eyes wide with barely restrained panic. "Where's Clint?"

Phil tensed. "Why?"

"JARVIS just hacked Adler's personal emails and decrypted the latest message," Tony stated. "Harris authorized Adler to use whatever means necessary to carry out Clint's punishment. We need to find him. _Now_."

* * *

Clint gritted his teeth, feeling his molars grind against one another as he bit back yet another scream that wanted to tear out of his throat. Just when he felt he couldn't hold it back, the pain eased and he slumped in his chair, breathing heavily.

"The more you hold back, the longer it's going to take," Adler stated, the calm in his voice a sharp contrast to the agony in Clint's body.

Clint took a deep breath, fighting to steady himself before replying. "I'm dead anyway, according to you. What does it matter?"

Adler shrugged. "It doesn't." He turned to Cruz. "Where are we?"

Cruz looked up from behind Clint, whose left shoulder was a bloody mess. "About halfway there."

Clint fought back a flinch. Cruz had taken great pleasure in telling him that he would be scoring a tally mark on his back for each person who had lost their lives in the attack on New York, both agents and civilians, before finally killing Clint. As each tally was being carved into his back, Adler spoke the name of another victim and a personal fact about them.

Logically, Clint knew that he had no control over his actions once Loki took over the driver's seat. He knew he had fought as hard as he could against the god's control. Knowing that didn't stop his own feelings of guilt and responsibility for not being strong enough to resist.

An alarm suddenly began to blare in the hallway, drawing all three men's attentions to the door. Clint couldn't help the smirk that creased his lips.

"Looks like your time's up," he said.

Adler swore as Cruz moved to the door and opened it, peeking outside. Head swinging left, then right, Cruz shut the door and turned to Adler. "The hall's clear. If we go now, we won't be seen."

"Go on," Adler told him, taking out his gun and checking the clip. "I'll catch up with you."

Cruz's eyes jumped from the gun and back to Adler. He nodded and slipped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Adler eyed Clint, taking in the bloodied, slumped mess that the assassin had become. "I would have liked to have finished the list of victims, but we're going to have to skip ahead to the last name."

"Don't rush on my account," Clint replied, leaning his head back as he eyed the gun in Adler's hand.

Adler aimed the gun at Clint, inches away from his forehead. There was no way he would miss at that distance.

"Sarah Harris," he stated. "Wife of Jeffrey Harris. Sister of Theresa Adler. _My aunt_. She was with her book club at a café when the damned space whale caused the building to collapse on top of her. Eleven people in that café died before help could reach them."

Clint swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry for your aunt. For your family, and for the families of everyone who lost someone that day. If I could go back and do it over, I'd . . . I don't know. But killing me won't bring her back."

"I don't need to bring her back," Adler said coldly. "But if she can't be alive, then you shouldn't get to be alive either."

The pain of loss in Adler's eyes struck a chord deep within Clint. Grief, for himself and for Adler, took over the fear inside of him, and he lifted his gaze from the gun to meet Adler's eyes.

"I wish I could undo all of it," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

A watery sheen descended over Adler's eyes, his jaw clenching.

Clint held Adler's gaze unflinchingly, unable to feel anger or blame for Adler in the face of his grief. He took a deep breath and waited for the end to come.

"Agent Adler, put the gun down."

Phil. Clint's eyes snapped to the door to the room that had opened without either man being aware of it. Phil Coulson stood in the doorway, his gun out and aimed at Adler.

"I have been given authorization to carry out Agent Barton's execution, Coulson," Adler stated, his gun never wavering from Clint. "Do not interfere."

"Harris is acting without approval from the Council," Phil stated. "If you do this, it's murder."

"Murdering a murderer," Adler stated. "I'm not seeing the downside."

Clint's ears picked up a very slight sound coming from above him, but he couldn't be sure that it wasn't his own imagination. He kept as still as possible, not wanting to upset the delicate balance of power that was happening between Phil and Adler at the moment.

"I promise you, Agent Adler, that if you put the gun down, you will not be harmed," Phil said calmly. "However, if you pull that trigger, you will not be leaving this room alive."

"So be it," Adler replied.

Clint's eyes instinctively squeezed shut as the room suddenly erupted into gunshots. His ears detected the sound of crashing and a metallic clang at the same time, and he tensed his body, waiting for the feel of a bullet to crash through his skull.

A long moment passed before Clint realized that the bullet hadn't come. Carefully cracking an eye open, he found himself staring at the back of Steve's shield, held in front of him by Natasha.

"Nat?" Clint said, lightheaded with shock. "What?"

Phil was at his side, along with Steve. Both were tugging at the ties that held him fast to his chair. Natasha lowered Steve's shield and pulled out one of her knives, handing it to Phil so he could saw through Clint's bonds.

With the shield lowered, Clint could see Adler lying on the ground in front of him, dead from a bullet to the head. Clint blinked down at Adler, then up at Natasha.

"Where did you come from?" he asked numbly.

Natasha smirked. "The vents."

Clint lifted his eyes to the ceiling and saw the vent grate swinging loose.

"Yeah, my shield was the best bulletproof object we had, but I couldn't fit through the vents," Steve stated, using his superhuman strength to break the zipties holding Clint's arms in place. "We just needed Phil to distract Adler long enough to get her in place."

Clint winced, bringing his arms around to the front. Phil passed Natasha back her knife and gently helped Clint to stand.

"Let's get you to medical," Phil said.

"It's okay," Clint assured him. "I'm fine."

Phil's look of disbelief, identical to the ones of Natasha and Steve's faces, was the last thing Clint saw before the pain caught up with him and shoved him into oblivion.

* * *

Clint's rise to awareness was gradual, his senses feeding him pieces of information at a time as he rose from the depths of slumber. He noted the stiffness in his back near his shoulder, oddly cushioned by the softest pillow he had ever felt. He hadn't even realized SHIELD infirmary had such high quality pillows.

"Clint? You back with us?"

Frowning slightly, Clint lifted heavy eyelids and blinked lazily up at Bruce Banner's concerned expression. Once Bruce came into sharp focus, the concern melted away into a relieved smile. "Welcome back."

Clint's frown deepened slightly, and he turned his head to his right, where Phil was seated in a chair. Natasha was seated on his left.

"Um . . ." Clint looked around the infirmary, noting the warm cream colored walls and deep red trim. There were three other beds in the otherwise empty room. "Where am I?"

"The newly outfitted medical floor in Stark tower," Bruce replied, leaning back and giving Clint a little bit of space, which he absently appreciated. "Apparently Tony was already working on it and rushed some of the construction to get it ready for you. We thought, all things considered, it would be more comfortable than SHIELD's infirmary."

Clint considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

Phil leaned forward. "How do you feel?"

Clint's head rolled on his pillow to face Phil. "Kind of fuzzy. Good."

"That'd be the drugs," Natasha stated from Clint's other side. "Nothing but the best when you're friends with Tony Stark."

Clint frowned, chasing his most recent memories around in his brain. "Adler?"

"Dead," Phil replied shortly.

Clint winced at the tug on his protesting muscles as he attempted to sit up in bed. Bruce steadied him and raised the head of the bed for him.

"How long was I out?" Clint asked, taking a deep breath and settling his sore back against the pillows.

"Not long," Natasha replied. "A little over twenty-four hours. We kept you under while we had you stitched back up. Stark even flew a good plastic surgeon in to take care of your back. He did good work, too; you'll barely notice the scars when they heal."

Clint suppressed the flinch at the reminder of his newest scars, but Natasha and Phil both read the guilt in Clint's eyes.

"Hey," Phil said, leaning forward and catching Clint's gaze. "None of what happened was your fault. And we'll keep telling you that for as long as you need us to."

Clint nodded. "So what's been going on since I've been catching up on my beauty sleep?" he asked, desperate to change the subject.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Well, Phil made Tony, Steve, and me take you here to the Tower instead of letting us help round up the rest of the guys who targeted you. Although how Natasha got to stay, I have no idea. Tony's crying favoritism, but not anywhere near when Natasha can hear him."

Natasha smirked. "What do you know? He _can_ be taught."

"Thor and Fury met with the Council not long after we found you," Bruce continued. "Thor made a royal decree on behalf of his family that basically claimed you as an honored warrior, and that you were to be added to the Avengers at his family's behest."

Clint blinked in shock. "What?"

Bruce nodded. "Between that and Fury telling the rest of the Council was Harris had been up to, they fell all over themselves to name you to the team. So, welcome to the Avengers. Officially."

Clint looked at Phil, who nodded at him with a quiet pride.

"Tony may or may not also be trying to adopt you," Bruce added.

Clint's head snapped back to Bruce. " _What?_ "

Bruce looked almost sheepish. "I, uh . . . accidentally let it slip that you pop into my lab and help me with some of my research. He was jealous that he didn't know about your natural aptitude for physics, then decided to lock you in his lab and make you sit a bunch of tests. In the end, he decided to adopt you, though I'm not entirely certain what his endgame is. I usually find it best to tune out some of his more eccentric ideas."

"Probably for the best," Natasha mumbled.

"Once you're feeling up to it, you have an appointment with Director Fury, Captain Rogers, and myself about everything that has been going on with Adler, Cruz, and the other agents that have been blaming you for Loki's attack," Phil spoke up. "While we have managed to round up everyone involved in this most recent incident, I would like to know about _every_ incident that has occurred."

Clint winced. "Er, _every_ incident?"

Phil nodded firmly. "And then we're going to go over proper procedures to follow when you are being harassed by other agents of SHIELD. I don't care how minor you think the harassment is; I will not have you targeted by your coworkers for something that was in no way your fault. Am I understood?"

"Phil-," Clint protested.

" _Clint_ ," Phil said, his tone unmoving.

Clint sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Huh," Bruce said.

Clint looked at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Bruce replied. "Just . . . does Tony know he's got competition for your adoption?"

Clint rolled his eyes and relaxed back into his bed. "Nat . . ." he pleaded.

Natasha snorted indelicately. "Don't look at me, _yastreb_. I told you what would happen if you kept this up."

Phil stood, his hand settling on top of Clint's and squeezing gently. "Get some rest, Clint. I'll see you later."

"I'm going to go too," Bruce chimed in. "I'm glad you're awake, Clint."

"Later, Phil, Bruce." Clint watched them leave, then turned to Natasha. "You staying?"

"For a while," Natasha said, settling more comfortably in her chair. "Get some more sleep. You'll need the energy to keep up with the rest of the team."

Clint relaxed, allowing his eyes to slide shut. A small smile graced his lips at Natasha's words. Knowing that he had a team of heroes willing to stand beside him and defend him eased away some of the guilt he still carried from Loki's attack. With a deep sigh, Clint melted back into the pillows and allowed the peace to finally carry him away.

END

* * *

 **A/N:** And I'm finished! Thank you for bearing with me while I finished this piece! I hope you enjoyed it. Also cross posted to AO3.


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